


Facade

by kwunkwun



Category: EXILE (JPOP), Sandaime J Soul Brothers, the second
Genre: M/M, Mild Angst, Unrequited Love, because I said so, everyone in exile is gay for Ryuji
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-27 21:24:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10050944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kwunkwun/pseuds/kwunkwun
Summary: Shokichi doesn't want to take advantage of the fact that Ryuji's easy to read. But he does.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to (one of) my wife(ves) who loves Shokichi. We had a big discussion over our biases and ended up shipping them for fun and you know what happens when you ship something as a joke (but ofc I love omiryu the most) A big thank you also to my (not by blood) sis for helping me with the title!

Ryuji doesn’t notice anything beyond singing, eating and messing around with friends. Maybe this is an over simplification, but Shokichi can’t help but think like this. He is beyond frustrated, and this is saying something, being the patient all-smiles nice guy that he is known to be.

The strobe lights ignite the stage in dazzling shades of blue and white, and Ryuji is owning the floor in that pure, honest and strangely humble way that almost makes Shokichi jealous. He watches Ryuji bring a hand up to the side of his head to readjust his earpiece, and admires the movement of those long, slim fingers. He eats up the sight of Ryuji’s hips subtly swaying when he shifts his weight. It’s not his fault he’s so distracted; his all-white costume outlines his body perfectly, with an equal measure of beauty and allure.

It’s a miracle that he doesn’t miss his entrance after the instrumentals end, but Shokichi has to make an extra effort to focus on his notes when Ryuji turns his head to offer a charming smile. The thrum of the beat makes his veins burn. And then there’s Ryuji’s body heat when he steps up next to him. He confidently tackles a needlepoint-precision key change and the admiration on Ryuji’s face move him way more than the infatuated sparkle in the audience’s eyes. He’s supposedly the senpai, the anchor, the tower of strength, but his insides turn to jelly from how Ryuji looks at him.

Sweat glitters on Ryuji’s brows, his jaw, the column of his throat, the shadowy crevice between his open collar. Eyes dark as lake-bed pebbles and a heart-shaped, faintly rouged mouth. Thank Christ he is good at multitasking –distraction, distraction, it’s like Ryuji’s just made of distractions. But seriously, if he has anyone to blame it’s himself. Crushing on an angel who has zero self-awareness.

When the final chorus comes, their voices overlap flawlessly. Ryuji’s is smooth and brilliantly clear, his, a little stronger and carrying a masculine grittiness. Ryuji soars in his upper register with ostensible effortlessness, despite how he says that he rediscovers how hard it is to sing, day after day. And that is the mark of true talent, Shokichi thinks.

The last chord is about to sound and Shokichi can taste the rapture of the audience. He harmonizes with Ryuji, supporting that top D sharp, holding his gaze from five meters away so as to know exactly when to come off the note. He is the earth to his wind, the landing to his flight. Long resigned to the fact that Ryuji is unattainable, Shokichi tries to make the most of these remaining seconds, this secretive communication through the exchange of melody and lyrics.

Still he uses the space of applause as an excuse to prolong the shared moment: he strides across the stage, throwing both arms around Ryuji, one hand falling covetously to the small of Ryuji’s back. Yeah, it’s far too low a spot to be innocent but it’s hopefully quick enough to be written off as an accident, and of course Ryuji cluelessly embraces him in return, with twice as much enthusiasm. Shokichi can feel the last thrums of the bass tickle the fine hair on the back of his neck before sinking into his pores. The performance comes to an end.

 

* * *

 

Water glistens on the blond spikes of his hair. Shokichi rubs at them with a fresh towel as he steps out of the shower. Ryuji is busy doing up the clasps of his next costume when Shokichi spots him. Ryuji rises to his feet immediately, bowing low.

“Thank you for your guidance.”

Shokichi is completely taken back –about to give a casual wave of his hand he realises that he can’t see, and so he extends a hand to pat Ryuji’s shoulder instead. He’s laughing, the timbre of it low and a little shy. Naturally, Ryuji joins him once he straightens his back. He’s about half a head shorter; the way he looks up at him with those dark eyes all glossy under the light unsurprisingly gives him breathing problems for a few seconds.

“We did pretty damn good out there didn’t we?” Shokichi boasts half-seriously. “Could almost form our own duo. The Exile twins.”

“The Exile twins? Nes-san will be lonely without you though, wouldn’t he,” Ryuji returns with a grin.

“He’ll be all right. I’m more worried about your Tosaka-kun.”

He says ‘your’ on purpose, even though he knows it’s low of him to test Ryuji like this. Unexpectedly it makes Ryuji’s face darken ever so slightly. If Shokichi didn’t feel like a shithead before, he sure does now.

“He’s busy doing his own thing so I doubt he’d notice.”

“Then he wouldn’t mind if I kidnapped you for a while?”

“Worry about our manager instead!”

There’s that laugh again. Shokichi hopes that the dressing room will stay empty save the two of them for a while longer. He can see a little more of how Ryuji is like off stage from the boyish disarray of his personal belongings on the fold-up table: there’s a set of tangled headphones, a bracelet strung with black and gold beads, a wallet, his phone, throat candy, a pink ( _pink!_ ) lip balm.

Every time he looks he just finds more to love about the guy.

“I’ll just bribe your manager –

Amongst the pile, Ryuji’s mobile suddenly buzzes. Instinctively, Shokichi’s gaze follows Ryuji’s towards the screen, and there he sees Tosaka’s contact photo.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, answer it.”

“No, I can call him back later.”

“I can leave the room if –

“No.”

Ryuji still doesn’t move. The phone buzzes a few more times, and the vibration against the tabletop is absolutely agitating. Finally it stops, and Shokichi watches Ryuji stare at it with glassy eyes and a flat mouth.

And suddenly it all makes sense to him.

Shokichi takes a step forward and pulls Ryuji against him. He can feel Ryuji tense for a second, but there is no further resistance. But of course there isn’t –right now he’s just being seen as a confidant, a friend, a role model. He is determined to make Ryuji see different, but this is the perfect place to start.

“Don’t think about it if it hurts.”

His arm comes around the arch of Ryuji’s back, and then he cradles the back of his head. The warmth of Ryuji’s body makes his heart ache terribly. He can feel the fan of Ryuji’s eyelashes against his nape, the shuddering breath upon his skin.

_I’ll show you how much you’re worth._

This is not manipulation. This is not fueled by a selfish desire to make Ryuji his own.

It isn’t.

Is it?


End file.
